


Ron Does Dinner

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Oneshot, Short, old fic, reposted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Ron is a great cook and an even better friend.





	Ron Does Dinner

Unlike most people in a similar position, Ron could pinpoint the  _exact_  moment his life had gone wrong.  
  
It was last Saturday over drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had turned to him and said, “You can cook, right?”  
  
If Ron had an inclination of what that seemingly innocent question would lead to, he would have feigned ignorance. Unfortunately, he was unfailingly honest and a fair hand at the old stove and therefore, he was doomed.  
  
Doomed to slave over a hot stove on Valentine’s Day, so his best friend could get lucky.  
  
Honestly, Ron deserved an Order of Merlin.  
  
“Is the marinara sauce done yet?” Harry demanded, bouncing anxiously in Ron’s  _creative space._  
  
“You have to let it simmer,” he explained, more patiently than Harry deserved. “The key is to stir constantly—they don’t tell you that in  _Charm Your Own Cheese_.”  
  
“It looks fine,” Harry protested, attempting to spoon some sauce out.   
  
Ron whacked his hand with a spatula before he could ruin everything. “Sit down,” he ordered over Harry’s pained yelp. “I can’t work with you hovering over me.”  
  
“I’m only trying to help,” Harry protested. “I want tonight to be perfect.”  
  
Oh yeah, that. Ron made a face and stirred a little more forcefully than strictly required. “You know,” he commented. “I’m pretty sure the saying is ' _go where your heart takes you'._ Not ' _amble down the general direction your prick is pointing in'_.”  
  
He felt Harry’s dark scowl before he actually saw it. Ron winced. “Too far?”  
  
“Way too far,” Harry replied evenly. Still, the warning in his tone was unmistakable and Ron knew better than to push it. They went back to working— Ron stirring and Harry making a mess of the salad.  
  
“He means a lot to me,” Harry said, after a beat of silence.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“This is the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s like all my life, my heart was searching for something I couldn’t name. I found it with him.”  
  
Ron sighed and reached out to rescue the salad. “Well, you know how it goes. Love is a virus. It can happen to anyone, anytime.”   
  
Too bad they hadn’t found a cure for whatever vile strain Malfoy came with. But it couldn’t be helped. Harry had been obsessed with the git since Fourth Year. Ron hadn’t been able to talk sense into him then and he wasn’t going to try now. Even Gryffindors had to pick their battles.  
  
Harry smiled softly. “He’s the one. And I know that’s something you need to get used to, but if you could be happy for me... you’d be doing me a solid, mate.”  
  
“Why do you think I’m here?” Ron demanded irritably. “I’m not cooking this delicious meal for  _his_  health, am I? I’m on your side, berk. Even if your side is mental.”  
  
Harry laughed. “You’re the best.”  
  
Well, obviously. Ron grinned back and punched his shoulder. “Now get out of my kitchen. I’m working here.”  
  
He shooed Harry off and resumed cooking with a vengeance.   
  
Oh, he was going to serve a dinner Ferret Face would  _never_  forget.  
  


* * *

  
Draco straightened his collar nervously and shifted the bouquet of orchids as he entered Harry’s flat. His eyes widened at the magnificent spread on the table. The delicate scent of marinara wafted over, mingled with herbs and delicate spices.  
  
Harry was shifting awkwardly by the table, looking endearingly bashful. “Do you like it?” he asked hopefully.  
  
Draco drew him into his arms. “Everything looks amazing,” he promised. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”   
  
Harry ducked his head. “All by myself too,” he declared proudly.  
  
An odd noise sounded from the kitchen. If Draco didn’t know better, he would say it was a snort of derision. Before he could ask, Harry hurriedly ushered him to the table. “Can I get you some wine?” he asked.  
  
Draco pulled him over again. “Actually,” he grinned, letting his fingers trace Harry’s hips. “I’m not that hungry. Why don’t we skip dinner and head for the bedroom?”  
  
There was a sudden crash from the kitchen, followed by a litany of curses.  
  
Draco whirled around, missing Harry’s groan of dismay. That was when Ronald Weasley stormed out, red-faced, furious and wielding a spatula.  
  
“I spent all day cooking over a hot stove, Ferret!" he howled. "You’re not going  _anywhere_  until you finish your damn dinner!”


End file.
